The Empty Pew
by Durotos
Summary: "I suppose when I look back at everything, a small part of me enjoyed seeing him so miserable." Written for MelodyFox in the Village Square Forums Valentine's Exchange. I hope you enjoy!


I suppose when I look back at everything, a small part of me enjoyed seeing him so miserable.

No, perhaps that is too harsh.

I don't particularly miss the mistiness in his wide eyes or the worry lines dotting his forehead, along with the tremor in his voice… but maybe I miss the way he would calm at my words and flock to me on my loneliest days. And maybe I missed his cries for help… just a little bit.

May the gods forgive me.

I never asked for much – a small apartment beyond the confessional, enough to eat and drink, the occasional visitor in the empty church. I've always had a funny feeling that Mineral Town's idea to build a church and invite me was an afterthought, that they would have been able to manage just fine without someone like me around. People mostly kept to their own business, and there was more than enough friendliness to go around. One thing that was different than the city I came from was that the people in this little town looked out for each other like a large extended family.

Of course I'd get regular visits from a couple of the villagers asking for advice or asking basic questions about the scripture. Confessions were often straightforward, the parishioners often sorting out their own problems while I sat silently. There was never anyone that seemed to need my services desperately…

That is, until he managed to stumble in. The moment our eyes met, I knew I had seen them somewhere before and a hush fell over the room as goose bumps traveled up my arms.

I had heard other priests talk about special connections before. Lives they were destined to change. I often dismissed the idea myself, as my work in Mineral Town had grown rather mundane as of late. Could it really be…?

"_I don't know if there is redemption for a soul like mine; I'm too far gone…"_

There was something different about his confessions. I guess part of me liked being someone's last hope. The fact that he was a newcomer to town probably explained a lot; no one in Mineral Town would have been in his same predicament. The fact that he stepped inside the church at all made me feel important, wanted. The fact that he was so desperate made me feel like I was the only one that could help him, that only I alone could change his life. Perhaps he was my special connection.

Or perhaps I was a fool.

He had refused counseling for quite some time, yet he sat every day in the same pew toward the front. He looked a little lost as to what was expected of him, awkwardly folding his hands and looking up at the statue of the goddess.

"_D-do you… think She could really forgive someone like me?"_

In that moment, his eyes were so full of fear, his frame trembling as his gaze moved to the ground. It had been so many years that I forgot it was possible to feel that way. It reminded me of my days as a wayward youth, turning to this foreign concept of faith when everything else in my life had failed me.

A hot cup of tea. Sugared biscuits. It was the cheap stuff, but on a salary like mine, it was all I could afford. Much like a wounded animal, he needed to be coaxed out with gentle words and soft reassurance. He didn't speak much at first, simply content with sitting in another's presence. I knew better than to pressure him into talking about his problems, and as I saw him set down his tea with a soft sigh, I knew it wouldn't be long until he spoke up on his own.

Once he began to speak, the words couldn't stop flowing, much like his tears. It was a snowy day in winter when he broke down, confessing the poor decisions he made that led to the separation of his family, and ultimately, his home village.

I couldn't help but feel relieved at his words. He was sharing his pain with me. He was exposing his heart and letting the pain flow out. Judging from his behavior, he had never done this with anyone before, and I felt honored to witness it. It wasn't so much the actual detail of what he had or hadn't done and why he was disappointed in himself, but the fact that he was seeking a solution and wanted to change that really stuck with me.

I wanted to be that solution for him.

A kind word, a soft voice… surely that was all he needed – someone to show him some compassion.

I wanted to prove that there was a reason why I was summoned to the church in Mineral Town. I wanted to make a solid difference in someone's life, not just answer trivia about the scriptures and listen to routine confessions.

His eyes widened in worry as they looked up at me uncertainly. It was in that moment I realized he was awaiting judgment, almost as if I were the Goddess herself.

I should have told him to stop looking at me like that.

Perhaps it was guilt that encouraged my future words, and it hurt as I said them.

"I think you would be happier if you opened up with more people."

He shuffled his feet, not looking up from them. "They don't understand me like you do."

His usual frown was on his face, his face tensed up in nervousness. He twiddled his thumbs the way he typically did when he was worried; I could see that the very thought of spending time with others had him upset.

His gaze finally turned toward me and the look in his eyes caught me off-guard. He was truly panicked, and he had never looked so lost before. He quickly looked back down at the floor and I heard him breathing a prayer under his breath to soothe himself.

Perhaps, in a way, I had created this. In monopolizing my time with him, he had grown to fear anything different than the routine I had created for him. But still…

Maybe he wasn't ready to talk to others. A few months might not have been enough time for him. He was sitting in his usual pew at his usual time. He was comfortable. I was comfortable. The church didn't feel like home without him there. And yet…

I knew I couldn't sustain this. His nerves have only gotten worse with time, but it wasn't only that. The rush I got when he'd ask for guidance or listen to his praises; I knew it wasn't right. I was willing to take credit for any of the small positive changes going on in his life, ignoring the statues of the deities I was instructing him to cast his worries to.

I was determined to save him; perhaps a little too determined.

I wanted to be his savior at any cost.

Seeing him so introverted and unwilling to speak to anyone but me…

I knew it had to stop, as much as it hurt.

I specifically chose her for him.

She was soft-spoken but her accent was not of this area. Her large blue eyes told me she had some problems of her own, but I was taken aback at how much they shone like his. There was a kindness in her aura; I had no doubt in my mind that they would make compatible friends.

I watched her approach him; I honestly couldn't tell who was the most nervous – him, her, or myself.

I looked through the crack in the confessional door as she teased a hint of a smile out of him. He was stammering and blushing, but there was a light behind his eyes I saw glimpses of now and then. I heard a hint of a chuckle out of him as she grinned and fussed with the rucksack on her shoulders. As she turned my way, I caught the color on her cheeks as well.

The tenseness in my chest eased. They were both a little shy and awkward, but my fears had faded immediately.

Perhaps introducing them was the kindest thing I ever did for him.

His pew is empty now. I light the candles every morning, half-expecting to see him sitting there with a frown on his face, staring down at his feet. He stops by occasionally, but not for long. He rarely comes to confession anymore. When he does, the visits are more of a social call than anything else. I can't tell if I'm relieved or a little depressed that I've done everything I could for him and it's time for him to find his own happiness. He has found that joy in her.

She is his person now. He speaks of her with great respect and a gentler tone of voice than usual. I might be a priest, but even I'm not oblivious to the symptoms of love. I've decided it's rather endearing to watch, and I know this is just the beginning for them. I'd like to think that everything turned out for the best.

On a dark autumn evening, I heard a knock on my apartment door beyond the confessional. I looked up from my newspaper and answered the door, curious at who could be visiting.

He was standing before me with a genuine smile, holding up a sack of store bought biscuits and a small tin of tea.

It was the cheap stuff – just starting out at a job at the local winery, he likely couldn't afford much. I was immediately taken back to those snowy winter evenings warming my hands against a cozy mug, enjoying its warm contents along with some sugary crumbly sweets from the supermarket. I remember the first time I heard him laugh. I was telling a funny story about my life in the city and I was delighted to find he enjoyed listening. His laughter was rich and warm – a sound up until then I didn't know he could make.

It seemed he was more than capable of experiencing happiness, and it no longer hurt to know that he is getting that joy from influences other than myself. Perhaps we had both been growing.

He looked at me with kind eyes before sheepishly gazing back at his paltry offering. "I was just thinking… It's been a while since we've had tea. Do you… have some time this evening?"

A smile formed on his lips as he saw mine.

"I always do."


End file.
